Eduard smiled. "I am not a cousin or a brother—fortunately—but perhaps I may be called 'something like that!'—Next Wednesday afternoon, then?"
"I'm not really sure that I shall be able to see you," she demurred.
"I am!" replied Eduard calmly; and, lifting his hat, he passed on.
He proved himself a true prophet. Joan could not deny herself the bitter satisfaction of seeing at what a small fire she had managed so to scorch her young wings.
He had been waiting half an hour in the convent parlor when she came to him, however; and half an hour in a convent parlor is an ordeal few forget. It was a large, bleak room divided midway by a grille, on the inner side of which sat a lay-sister, knitting. The other side was left for the reception of male relatives and connections; and a tongue-tied, uneasy lot they were, slipping about on the horsehair sofas, staring furtively at the undecorative saints who adorned the walls, conducting their conversation obviously with a view to the other side of the grille.
"For heaven's sake, get me out of this!" murmured Desmond as Joan approached. "I feel as if the eye of God were on me constantly!"
"It's only the eye of Sister Veronica," reassured Joan, "and more her ear than her eye, I fancy."
"You don't mean that she can hear what we are saying, in there?"
"I've been told there's a sounding-board concealed about this room somewhere. It may not be true, of course; but it's wonderful how much does get back to the Convent from the parlor."
Eduard shuddered. "There's goose-flesh up and down my spine! Do come out for a walk somewhere."